


Rosier & the Year of the Snake

by adifferenttateofmind



Series: Rosier [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adifferenttateofmind/pseuds/adifferenttateofmind
Summary: behold the king and queen of snakes, born apart and yet to be entwined...
Series: Rosier [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157240





	1. The Prophecy

June 5, 1980

* * *

Lucius Malfoy paced along the corridor outside his personal chambers, hands tightly gripped behind his back as he tried to block out the noise coming from behind the closed bedroom doors. His wife, Narcissa, cried out in agony as labor pains ripped through her, the pain of bringing the first Malfoy heir into the world. A storm wailed outside, only echoing his wife's anguish.

It had been a difficult pregnancy from the start. Narcissa had had trouble conceiving, but once they finally had, it became trial after trial of bouts of morning sickness, appetite spikes, and body cramps that left her stuck in bed for days at a time. Even on one of her good days she would stay close to Malfoy Manor, too weak and fearing the worst would strike if she left the safety of the grounds. INstead, she opted to walk among the gardens with Lucius or, on rare occasions, with her eldest sister, Bellatrix, by her side.

Narcissa had always insisted on maintaining a facade of strength and poise, both in the public eye, as well as with her husband. Even while they were students at Hogwarts, with him a year above her, Narcissa never seemed to make an appearance without being perfectly made up. Lucius never knew if her mindset stemmed from upholding the legacy of the Black family, or if it was for her own agenda, but he never took the time to question her. Instead he matched her at every moment, a pillar of strength by her side.

He had only seen her cry twice before: at their wedding, and once near the end of her pregnancy. He had come home to find her collapsed beside the bed, sobs wracking her body and nearly too weak to stand. A very dear friend had visited, with a newborn child of their own, and Narcissa spiraled into despair as they left, suddenly uncertain if she was prepared to face becoming a mother. Lucius had comforted her the best he could, praising her as he desperately tried to erase the fears he too had for himself, leaving the room only after she had fallen asleep by his side.

Bellatrix was in the room with her now, refusing to miss the birth of her nephew. She had taken Lucius' place beside Narcissa, comforting her when it should have been him by her side. But despite it being Bellatrix who had physically removed him from the room, she was only acting under Narcissa's strict command.

Otherwise, he would have been beside her too.

Lucius loved his wife dearly, despite all public appearances painting the pair as stoic, icy, and much too formal with each other. To hear his wife in such soul-splitting agony hurt him nearly as much as it did her, and it was all he could do not to rip the door from its hinges, just to be by her side. Instead, he focused on pacing back and forth, keeping his breathing steady.

A loud crash of thunder shook the manor and, without any warning, Narcissa's wailing stopped. Lucius froze mid-step. It was only seconds, though it felt like hours to him, before the silence was filled with the wails of a healthy baby boy. He nearly stumbled as he turned back to the door, his long cloak tangled around his legs.

My son, he thought, pride swelling in his chest. My heir.

Almost as if he had been summoned, a young healer swung the once offending door open. Lucius could barely catch a glimpse of his wife cradling their newborn before the door was firmly shut again, the healer colliding head-on with Lucius as he turned to rush down the corridor.

"Ah, my ap-apologies, s-s-sir, I -uh, was j-just -"

"Boy." Lucius growled, sharper than he intended to. He glared down at the healer, who only hung his head in fear. "My wife. How is she? My wife and my son?"

Saying it outloud made Lucius puff with another wave of pride, but the healer didn't answer, still refusing to meet his eyes. The pride was replaced with the sharp chill of fear as the possibilities flooded his mind, each new thought worse than the one before.

"Answer me!"

Lucius gripped the boy's shoulder's, ready to shake the answers out of him if needed. All at once, at the mere touch of Lucius' hands, the young healer's eyes rolled to the back of his head. He froze, no longer shaking, before falling slack into Lucius' arms.

Now it was Lucius' turn to pnic, barely able to catch the boy before his dead weight would've brought both of them tumbling to the cold marble. However, the dead weight didn't last long, as the boy managed to stiffly stand himself upright, Lucius' hands still clenching his shoulders. The boy's breathing, which had been ragged seconds ago, was now calm and shallow, his eyes merely white orbs, seeming unseeing as he began to smile.

It was as if the storm had fallen silent outside, the corridor suddenly icy cold. Lucius felt a cold sweat break over his pale brow as he realized the boy's dead eyes weren't just looking in his direction, they were fixated directly into his own. He spoke, his voice a hushed rasp.

Behold the king and queen of snakes…

Born apart and yet to be entwined…

One from light, one from shadow…

If raised true…

The pawns of the Dark Lord can turn the tides…

The moment the boy fell silent he collapsed again, his breathing speeding up once again and his eyes fluttering shut. This time, Lucius was ready to catch him, desperate for him to regain consciousness and answer the questions that were swirling in his mind.

"AH!"

All at once the boy was conscious again, reeling back from Lucius' iron grip. He took in Lucius' face, paler than usual, before the baby wailed again, bringing him back to the present. The healer flushed a deep maroon, bowed, and took off down the hall, stumbling as his still weak legs fought to keep him upright.

Lucius had never felt more stunned in all his life. He watched the healer, the seer he supposed, flee down the corridor, not concerned in the slightest about where he went in the manor, only focusing on what he had said.

A prophecy in itself was rare, but for one to be hand-delivered in one's own home was nearly unheard of. There was no doubt it spoke of his son, his king of snakes. Lucius gripped the snakehead handle of his cane tightly, rubbing his thumb over it's sharpened fangs as he pondered the rest.

Who, in Merlin's name, was destined to become this queen of snakes?

Another wail from inside the chambers broke Lucius' train of thought, reminding him that his wife was waiting. His beautiful, powerful wife, who had just brought their heir, their Draco into the world.

A world that would now become better because his son was destined to help shape it.

The prophecy could wait a moment. Without a second thought, Lucius turned on his heel and entered his chambers.

He had a son to meet.


	2. Fall From Grace

August 19th, 1980

* * *

Against the dark Wiltshire sky, the Malfoy Manor loomed as stately as its long legacy of inhabitants. All was dark, the only source of light coming from the moon, still shining brightly despite the sheets of rain pouring down.

A dog huddled by the front hedges, hidden from view, its watchful gaze fixated on the manor. It was careful not to approach the gates too closely, much too familiar with the security measures that had been placed upon it in order to keep those unwanted out, guests and pests alike. Instead it kept its distance, tensed and listening for the smallest disturbances in the night.

He had been stationed there every night the last few weeks, keeping a trained eye on the manor while the rest of the world was asleep. It was the first quiet night since the baby was born. Usually the manor was aglow, the baby's wails echoing throughout the night, often shrill enough to nearly pierce the dog's highly tuned ears. He would watch as Narcissa paced the halls, cooing to her screaming child, her willowy figure a fleeting silhouette as she passed each window. Motherhood fit her like a glove, and the dog was half-impressed, half-furious with her for it. But tonight, all was quiet. It was almost like watching an empty house.

Pop!

The unmistakable sound of apparating broke the night's stillness, muffled still by the rain.

A woman stumbled forward, clutching a bundle to her chest. Her cloak was ripped near the hem and there was a deep cut along her arm; the dog could smell the sharp metallic scent of blood from his hiding place. The rain didn't seem to hit her, instead it simply melted away, as if she was sealed inside an invisible barrier. The hood of her cloak had fallen as she caught herself, a dark mess of hair framing her face, her eyes darting around wildly.

The dog instinctively backed deeper into the hedges, its eyes now visible only to those who knew where to look. It watched silently, fixated on the stranger.

She approached the gate without hesitation, her stride never faltering as the gate swung open for her noiselessly. She clutched the bundle tighter to her chest, as if she feared someone would jump from beyond the hedges and snatch it away. The dog darted in behind her, squeezing through the already closing gate before disappearing into the underbrush of the hedges once again.

Upon reaching the front door she placed the bundle gently on the doorstep, raising her fist to knock, pausing before she could. She brought the fist to her mouth, barely containing a sob. She knelt before the bundle, adjusting it and mumbling frantically to herself as she did. The dog could hear the faintest traces of what she was saying, but the barrier blocking the rain must have been blocking her volume as well. Before she found another moment to reconsider, the woman stood stiffly, rapped twice on the door, and vanished as quickly as she had arrived.

Ignoring the threat of being seen, the dog bolted forward, barely registering the icy sheets of rain as he raced to see what was contained within the bundle. He padded towards it cautiously, nudging the blankets away with his nose.

The dog found itself face to face with a baby girl, no older than a few months old. She was fast asleep, her breathing slow and deep, as if she were under the effects of a sleeping draught. The tufts of hair peeking out from under the blanket were a honey blonde, and a silver bracelet dotted with ruby red roses was wrapped loosely around her chubby wrist.

The sound of the manor door unlocking made the hackles stand on the back of the dog's neck. It growled, prowling backwards to its hiding place beside the house, watching as the door opened fully.

Neither Lucius nor Narcissa appeared. Instead, a small creature peered out timidly from beyond the double doors, its bulging eyes darting around nervously. Once its gaze landed on the child, it let out a shrill gasp, quickly covering its mouth to contain the noise.

The dog, from many reconnaissance missions to Malfoy Manor, recognized Dobby the House Elf immediately. What surprised it most was that instead of bundling up the child and bringing her inside, the house elf shut the door gently behind him and let out a guttural moan, bashing his head against the marble pillar beside the front steps.

After a few moments of this, Dobby glanced back at the sleeping child, almost as if to see if it was truly there. He bundled it up stiffly, an already difficult task for the small elf, and began the long trek down the drive of the manor. Besides the heavy rain drenching his browning pillowcase, the house elf's journey was filled with wails and jerky steps back and forth, as if he was fighting against himself to keep moving forward.

The dog followed, intrigued, making sure to keep close to the hedges until the house elf reached the gate. Dobby rushed beyond and made to throw the child into the deserted street, abruptly stopping himself mid-toss and instead slamming his balled up fist against his forehead. He began to wail once more.

The dog watched for another moment before making a split second decision. Still under the cover of the bushes he transformed, emerging as the lanky twenty-one year old Sirius Black. He pulled the collar of his jacket up around his face and shook out his already dripping black hair, hoping the tangled strands would do enough to hide his face. He had never met his cousin's house elf before (he hadn't had the pleasure of actually being invited inside the manor since his youth), but he didn't want to leave any room for risk.

Sirius stuck his hands deep in his pockets and, as casually as possible, as if he always went for long walks in the rain, strolled by the front of the manor. The elf was wheezing on his knees now, the bundle dangerously loose in his crooked arms. At the sight of Sirius his eyes widened and he scrambled back to his feet.

"Please sir, she can't stay," the house elf panted out, exhausted from beating his forehead bloody. He tried desperately to force the bundled child into Sirius' arms, his long fingers clawing into the hem of Sirius' jacket. "Can't stay here...Dobby won't let her, no sir, won't allow it…"

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, taken by surprise and yet intrigued to find out more. "Who is she?"

"Daughter of Roses, sir...Prophecy can't be true…" Dobby pushed the child towards Sirius more forcefully. "Dobby was told to protect her...can't stay here, won't be safe…"

He would have let the girl drop if Sirius hadn't swept her into his arms in time. He stiffened, immediately taken aback at how unnatural it felt to be holding her. He had never been good with babies. His thoughts raced immediately to watching Narcissa night after night, how gracefully she worked to calm her son. He loved children, he really did, but more when they were older enough for the more rough-and-tumble activities. His blood boiled, hating the weakness he felt, like no matter what he did, he could never fully protect the fragile life in his arms. He watched as her head lolled to the side, a deep stuttered breath her only reaction to being tossed around. Definitely under a sleeping potion, he thought. That eased his fear a bit.

"What prophecy?" Sirius hoisted the child higher in one arm, grabbing for Dobby with the other. "Why wouldn't she be safe?"

As Sirius' arm swung, Dobby grabbed it, his face gravely serious.

"She must be raised right, must break the prophecy, sir. Dobby cannot let them find her, Dobby must keep her safe, yes sir, yes sir..."

Still mumbling to himself, the seemingly crazed house elf snapped his fingers and vanished. The gates of Malfoy Manor were closed again, leaving Sirius shell-shocked and alone on the road, a baby he had never seen before still fast asleep in his arms.

He had never intended for this.

* * *

September 1st, 1980

* * *

Two weeks later, Sirius stood along a bare stretch of the cliffs of Dorset, tapping his foot impatiently. It was late at night, somewhere between one and two in the morning, and the young man had grown tired of waiting. He could hear the water crashing against the bottom of the cliffs far below him, but it was too dark to make out much detail. Next to him, the tall and imposing figure of Alastor Moody stood silently, his nose roughly bandaged. His dark eyes stared straight ahead, making it even harder to decipher what the famed Auror was thinking.

"How much longer?" Sirius nearly whined,shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He felt like they had been standing there for hours, unmoving, and he was growing antsy.

"Quiet," Moody growled, his eyes never leaving the horizon. "Won't be long now."

Sirius huffed and crossed his arms, trying once again to scan the horizon for himself. He wished he could transform into Padfoot - the dog would be able to see much better in the dark -, but he wasn't in the mood for taking such a risk and besides, his animagus wasn't exactly registered.

It had been exactly two weeks since Sirius had accidentally acquired the baby from outside Malfoy Manor. He had apparated to James and Lily's immediately, taking advantage of their new parental status in hopes that they would know what to do with the child, who was slowly beginning to wake from her potion-induced sleep. At the mere mention of 'Malfoy', James had disappeared to call in reinforcements, and soon the house was filled with members of the Order, all eager to get a look at the stolen child.

The presence of two babies (three, if you count the late arrival of Alice and Frank Longbottom with their son Neville) brought an unexpected aura of joy to the house, and it was Alastor Moody who single-handedly shifted the mood.

He sat quietly in a secluded room and let Sirius explain everything, his face never showing a hint of emotion. There were fresh cuts on his face, his nose nearly shorn off from a run-in with Evan Rosier, the high profile Death Eater, earlier that night, where Moody had been the one to survive. As soon as Sirius finished, Moody disappeared back into the house, reappearing moments later with the last two Order members Sirius had expected to see in tow: the Squib, Arabella Figg, and his former best friend, Remus Lupin. Sirius gave Remus a cold stare, which the other matched in stride before glancing away.

Moody explained the plan effortlessly, as if he had had hours to plan it instead of minutes: Arabella would house the child in the Muggle world, with Remus as her guard. Moody would handle the rest, only when the threat of anyone searching for the child had passed. It wasn't a permanent solution.

"Why can't we just change her name and keep her protected for the rest of her life?" Arabella had asked quietly. "Let her live a normal life."

"That isn't our job, Arabella. We aren't a child protection program. We're simply allowing that she be raised away from Malfoy's influence." Moody's answer was gruff and simple. "If this house elf is right and there's a prophecy connecting this baby to the Malfoys, she'll have to embrace her name one way or another. Our best bet is to at least ensure she was raised by someone on our side."

Remus opened his mouth to complain, but Sirius beat him to it, deeply offended that he hadn't been put on the defensive duties. He was the one who had rescued the child in the first place, putting himself at risk of discovery and potentially breaking a prophecy by removing the girl from the manor. He felt like he was owed the right to at least be a part of the defence, to protect the child he had already unintentionally risked so much for. Moody barely gave him a second glance.

A soft pop sounded, snapping Sirius from his thoughts.

Two figures had appeared before them, one male and one female. The woman carried the familiar bundle carefully in her arms while the man lit their way, his arm linked firmly within hers.

"Arabella, Remus." Moody's gruff tone pierced the night as the two got closer. "How'd it go?"

"The girl's right as rain, the little sweetheart," Arabella cooed, cuddling the child to her frail frame.

Sirius peered forward at the girl, who was squirming in Arabela's grasp, fussing after a bout of side-along apparition that must have been exhausting for her tiny body. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn't have the parental instincts to act. She twisted around so that her arms were extended out to Remus, whining softly "We-moo, up. We-moo…"

Moody continued, "Did you manage to learn anything about her?"

"Learned her name's Aurora," Remus answered, tucking his wand back into his pocket in order to pick up the girl. "Aurora Vinda Rosier. Saw it in a news report, the same one reporting her father's death and mother's disappearance. Seems the Ministry believes the Rosier line is finished, both mother and daughter believed to be dead."

Remus gave Moody a meaningful look before continuing. "The Malfoys are still looking for her. Narcissa's the girl's godmother - Amalthea loved her like a sister."

"It's to be expected," Moody grimaced. "Nothing can be done about that. They can search all they like, that's why we took immediate action."

"Seems she's taken a liking to you, huh, Moony?" Sirius' tone was unmistakably flat, a stab of jealousy piercing his chest as Remus bounced the child expertly in his arms. He had always been the better of the two with younger children. He watched the child - Aurora, he reminded himself - nestle comfortably against Remus' chest, her tiny fist gripping tightly to the lapel of his overworn blazer. "You weren't supposed to grow attached, she's not sticking around much longer…"

"Yes, thank you, Sirius," Remus' tone was sharp, taking the time to emphasize Sirius' name and ignoring how Sirius had used his nickname instead, just like the days before the war.

"She's taken quite a liking to him," Arabella chimed in. She patted Aurora's arm gently, brushing past the tensions between the two silently fuming men. "It's going to be rough on Marius when she starts to realize Remus won't be around to coddle her everyday."

"Good job." Moody nodded in rare praise. He ignored the lingering, questioning look from Sirius.

"Speaking of Marius, there's a matter I'd like to discuss with you." Arabella waggled her finger in Moody's face. Despite being the only Squib in the Order of the Phoenix, Arabella Figg held an air of authority which often made even the most formidable members stop and listen. "It's not that I don't trust Marius Fawley, but I don't believe we should be leaving Aurora alone without some form of protection from the Order."

"What do you expect us to do, Arabella?" Moody huffed. "We're already leaving the girl with a relative Dumbledore trusts, under magical protections. Anything else would result in direct interference."

"Give her a godfather, to combat that nasty godmother she already has." Arabella crossed her arms, a smug look on her face; her mind had already been made up. She smiled sweetly at Remus. "She's already taken quite a liking to Mr. Lupin."

"Him?" Sirius barked, startling Aurora in Remus' arms, who had already stiffened at Arabella's suggestion. "Wolfy McWolf? The resident werewolf put in charge of a baby? Him, and not me, the one who saved her from being raised by the Malfoys in the first place?"

"You have such a hero complex," Remus growled, but his scarred face had already flushed.

Moody let out a gruff 'hmph' of agreement, ignoring Sirius' outburst. He nodded to Arabella.

"Fine. The boy is now officially her godfather." He glanced over to Remus, who had subconsciously tightened his grip on Aurora. "Congratulations, son. Try to limit any interactions you have with her."

Remus nodded stiffly, ignoring Sirius' glare. With that, Moody turned and limped away into the darkness of the night. Sirius rushed to keep pace with him, refusing to fall back with Remus and Arabella, who was using the former as a sort of walking support. After walking in silence a few minutes Moody stopped abruptly near the edge of a cliff, holding an arm out to stop the still bitter Sirius from tromping off the edge.

"Read this." Moody handed him a sliver of paper. "Think hard on it, then pass it along."

Sirius squinted down at the curled penmanship. He didn't recognize the handwriting, but was able to make out the words:

'Marius Fawley, the Cottage Along the Cliffs, Dorset, England'

Sirius passed the paper to Arabella, focusing on what he had just read. As soon as he reached the part about the Cottage, a red door appeared, followed by the rest of a grey shingled house, as if it had been inflated from the side of the cliff. Sirius glanced over the dizzyingly high edge, following the cottage's frame as it opened itself along the side of the cliff like a crawling vine of ivy.

As Lupin set fire to the slip of paper, Moody approached the door, rapping against the rough red wood three times.

"Open up, Marius. It's time to meet your niece."


	3. The Cottage Along the Cliffs

January 13th, 1991

* * *

Years had passed since Aurora was left in the care of her uncle.

And yet, the small cliff-side cottage remained exactly the same.

Aurora Rosier sat on the window seat beside her bedroom window. Her room was on the second floor of the cottage, facing the open ocean. Because the cottage was literally cliffside, anytime Aurora went to lean out the window, it left her suspended almost directly over the brilliantly turquoise water below. Strong magic kept the cottage affixed along the cliff's walls, and it had never crossed Aurora's mind to be afraid. She found she loved the fleeting adrenaline rush that came with simply looking out her bedroom window.

She had woken up hours ago, when the moon was dipping low in the sky, much too excited for sleep. Instead she had opted to watch the sun rise over the horizon. Slowly, sunlight had crept into her room, reflecting off the gently lapping water below. She kicked her legs, eager for the day to begin.

It was, after all, finally her eleventh birthday.

"How long did you say it took to get your letter?" Aurora asked over her shoulder, her eyes still focused out the window.

A snort sounded from behind her. She glanced back and glared at Cedric Diggory, who was wandering her room, occasionally pulling small knick-knacks from their shelves and examining them. He shot her a half smile and sat on her unmade bed, shrugging.

"I didn't say. I woke up to Ace pecking my forehead, remember?" He pushed his brown hair off his forehead, pointing to a barely noticeable white dot above his right eyebrow. "Got the scar to prove it."

Aurora giggled at the thought of the Diggory's greying screech owl pecking an eleven-year old Cedric awake before turning back to scan the skies for her own family's owl. "You're such a heavy sleeper."

The Diggorys had arrived at eight that morning, laden with gifts and ready to celebrate Aurora's birthday. Usually Cedric would be back at Hogwarts and send a letter to her instead, but a nasty hoard of frost salamanders had iced the Hogwarts Express, giving students a few extra days of holiday until the Ministry could get safely rid of the bunch. Cedric had planned on surprising Aurora awake, but when he got to her room and found she was sitting at her window, already as awake as could be, he had joined her without question.

Aurora had known the Diggorys for as long as she could remember. Amos and Marius had both been Hufflepuffs in the same year at Hogwarts, and remained each other's most trusted friend to this day. Aurora and Cedric had been practically raised together, both homeschooled by Mrs. Diggory while Marius and Amos were working at the Ministry.

She hadn't seen much of Cedric since he started at Hogwarts over a year and a half ago. The two had gone from seeing each other nearly every day to only corresponding via occasional owl. When Cedric wasn't at school he was more often than not visiting his school friends or, in the case of the summer before, away at a Quidditch training camp, which Amos had insisted he attend before try-outs his second year. But Aurora didn't mind; the extended time apart only made for more interesting stories when they were together again.

"At least I'm not owl obsessed." Cedric threw a pillow at her, which barely missed soaring straight out the open window, making her laugh even harder. "Why'd you get up so early anyhow, Rory?"

"I'm nervous, Cedric." Aurora stood from her perch, stretching her legs for the first time in what felt like hours. She crossed her arms over her pajama shirt and stood next to the bed. Her voice came out in a shaky whisper. "What if I don't get a letter?"

Cedric stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide. Aurora's eyes filled with tears - she hadn't wanted to admit it, especially not to Cedric, but she really was scared. She rushed to brush away the tears before they fell, but Cedric grabbed her first, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Come on. Rory, don't be so hard on yourself." He let his cheek rest on the top of her head, speaking quietly as she furiously wiped at the tears spilling down her face. "You're one of the brightest people I know. Plus, with all those extra lessons you uncle's been giving you, there's no way they'd overlook you."

It was true. Her uncle Marius had started giving her extra homework assignment two years ago, after a particularly powerful accidental magic outburst, which had left the dining room windows shattered and Aurora's eyebrows singed. At first the assignments had been relatively easy: memorizing the ingredients for a Forgetfulness Potion or answering pop quiz questions about important dates in the wizarding world. But recently, as her eleventh birthday drew closer, they had gotten more and more challenging, to the point where Marius had tried for hours to coax a wingardium leviosa out of her, leaving her mentally and physically exhausted.

The use of underage magic was strictly illegal, a fact Marius was very aware of. Marius was also very aware of how determined he was for Aurora to succeed from the start of her Hogwarts career, and how far he was willing to push her so that she would carry out the Fawley family legacy. What was one or two flying books when the child couldn't control their magic yet?

She sniffled. "Thanks, Cedric."

Aurora couldn't have been happier to have Cedric then she did in that moment: sitting there with his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder, Cedric rambling on about how talented she was and how great Hogwarts was going to become the next year when she was sorted into Hufflepuff with him. When he had run out of things to say they just sat there, his arms still wrapped around her.

After a few minutes Cedric broke the silence.

"Hey, I'm gonna go get you a glass of water, okay?" Cedric gave Aurora a final squeeze before standing. Aurora tried to avoid looking at the tear stains she had left on his sweater and nodded, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders. He grinned, pointing at the still open window and owl-free sky. "Keep an eye on the skies, I won't be gone long. Hoot if you see anything."

He chuckled at his own owl pun and left the room. As soon as Cedric's footsteps disappeared down the stairs, Aurora untangled herself and leaned over the edge of her bed, pulling out a small music box carved with her initials, 'AVR'. She opened it, the figure of a mermaid perched in the middle humming a soft lullaby. It was filled to the brim with miscellaneous items she had collected over the years, but now she dug through it, hunting for a specific memory.

"Gotcha," she whispered, pulling out a small photograph, taking extra care to avoid the torn upper corner.

Moving to sit cross-legged on her bed, Aurora smiled down at the picture in her hands. A young couple stood in the frame, somewhere in front of a dark lake. The man was tall and blonde while the woman was shorter, her dark hair cut short below her ears. They each wore the standard Hogwarts uniform, sans the robe, but where hers was practically tailored to her body, her yellow house tie tucked neatly into her vest, his uniform was untucked and disheveled, the tie gone from around his neck. While she grinned lovingly up at him, he waved at the camera, squinting in the sunlight.

Aurora waved back. She liked to pretend her father was waving to her.

She had found photo clippings from the war in her uncle's bookshelf when she was younger. She had been looking for a new book on magical creatures when she spotted a thin black book tucked haphazardly away. She pulled it down, amazed to see that it was an album of sorts. Most of the pages were empty (or, upon later reflection, magically protected to keep secrets from snooping eyes), but a few held newspaper clippings about the infamous Wizarding War.

She had spent hours pouring over the information she had found. There were a lot of funny names - she had giggled at the thought of someone seriously naming their child Sirius for a few minutes - and a few hideous pictures of smoke skulls in the sky that terrified her even then, before she learned what their true meanings were. But when she neared the end of the book, this loose photo fell out. It looked as if it had been ripped to shreds and magically put back together multiple times, with thin scar-like lines criss-crossing the image.

Even without seeing a photo of her parents before, Aurora knew that the couple in the photo had to be them. She really was her father's spitting image. And she could see pieces of her mother in her reflection too: the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, where she got her wavy hair from.

As far as she could remember, Aurora had spent all her life in this very cottage with her uncle, Marius Fawley. He had always been honest with her, even from an early age. If Aurora had a question or desperately wanted the answers about something, he would answer her, whether the answer was what she wanted to hear or not.

Through this, Aurora knew a lot more about her family's situations than other children usually would. She knew all about her maternal family: Regina, her grandmother who resided in London at the Fawley Estate; Kalina and Kalysta, her twin aunts working as freelance potioneers in Brazil; Laurence, her uncle who was currently the seeker for the Puddlemere United Quidditch team; and Ileana, her youngest aunt working on a biography all about Jacob Kowalski's life, the only family member currently residing in the States. Each family member seemed to know about Aurora's existence, judging by their yearly birthday presents and the rare letter or two, but they had never met. Aurora seemed to be the family's best kept secret.

She knew that The Cottage Along the Cliffs was Unplottable, meaning that no one knew where the cottage was. Occasionally Aurora would see the more adventurous tourists exploring the rocky beach below her window, but they never noticed her watching them from the house climbing the cliff face above them. She also knew that very few people were able to actually locate the house. Amos and the rest of the Diggorys were their Secret-Keeper, which granted them access to their front door.

The only subject Marius refused to breach was the subject of her parents. She knew the basics: she was born to Evan Rosier and Amalthea Fawley, two pureblooded wizards who had, as reported in the Daily Prophet, perished during the Wizarding War. Anytime the topic was brought up Marius would brush it off or, more often than not, leave the room completely, a thick silence left behind him as he usually cast a silencing charm on Aurora to quelm her questioning. Eventually she had learned to just stop asking.

Aurora stood, the photo still in her grip, and went over to the mirror now. Growing had only helped to emphasize the features she shared with her father: her high cheekbones appearing as the baby fat was starting to melt away, her lips shadowing his smile from the picture. The only differences were that her eyes were a darker shade of blue, and her hair had darkened to mimic more like her mother's, turning a golden brown while her father's had been the color of honey. She sighed, wishing he would stride - she imagined he strode everywhere - into the room now and wrap her in a hug.

"Hey Rory, I got some — what's that?"

Before Aurora could even react, Cedric was beside her, his Seeker reflexes kicking into gear as he snatched the picture from her hands. He laughed, not even noticing the split-second look of terror on Aurora's face as he held it above his head, his recent growth spurt a major advantage. He glanced up at the picture as Aurora lept to retrieve it, his brow furrowing in confusion as he made the connection.

"Whoa — are these your parents?"

"Shut up, Cedric!"

As he lowered his defenses, Aurora grabbed the picture back, rushing to tuck it back into her music box.

"You can't tell Marius or your dad or anyone, okay?" Aurora sat on top of her bed, her cheeks flaming red as her heart pounded in her chest. "I just wanted something to prove they were real, okay? And when I found the picture I — I just didn't want Marius to take it away."

Cedric held his hands up in defense. "Hey, your secret's safe with me, okay?"

Aurora gave him a weary smile, curling her knees up to her chest. He sat down beside her, curling his long legs so that his feet rested on the chest at the edge of her bed, mimicking her position.

"That's why I'm so nervous." Her voice was soft, feeling as if she was admitting the truth out loud for the first time. "Of not going to Hogwarts, of not being good enough. I don't want to disappoint them."

Cedric leaned his head on her shoulder, not saying a word. He didn't have to, Aurora knew he understood. His father was the same as her uncle, determined for Cedric to succeed and bring unimaginable honor to the Diggory name. She laid her head against his, closing her eyes. She was beyond grateful for her best friend.

* * *

A gentle hooting startled Aurora awake. She sat up, blinking groggily. Judging by how the lighting in her room looked nearly the same, she assumed she had only been asleep for a few minutes. But now Cedric was gone, probably got bored of waiting and headed downstairs with his parents and her uncle. Her uncle's owl, a tawny barn owl named Oxnard, was hopping back and forth on the window's ledge, a letter attached to its stuck out leg.

It took a second for her to process what Oxnard was doing in her room, but once she did she rushed to untie the letter, nearly tripping over the pillows Cedric had tossed around earlier. She could barely keep herself from squealing as she took the letter, staring at the address flowing across the front in green ink.

Ms. A Rosier

The Upstairs Bedroom

The Cottage Along the Cliffs

Dorset

Ignoring Oxnard nipping at her fingers, she tore open the envelope, her eyes hungrily scanning the letter's contents.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Rosier,

We are pleased to inform you that…

Aurora didn't need to read anymore, the first few words were enough to make her giddy. It was finally here! She spun wildly around the room, the letter clutched to her chest, before collapsing on the bed, her legs bicycling wildly in the air.

"I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm going to Hogwarts!" she sang, unable to contain her glee. All nervousness she had felt earlier was gone, replaced now with pure excitement.

The unmistakable sound of Cedric storming up the stairs two at a time did nothing to shake Aurora's excitement. He threw the door open, a look of absolute joy on his face. Following closely behind was Amos and Marius, both with wands drawn and looks of confusion on their faces, as well as Mrs. Diggory, who had the sense to understand what was going on a bit better than either of the men.

"I'm so proud of you, Rory." Cedric pulled her from the bed into a bone-crushing hug. She squeezed him back, her mind racing with the ideas of what Hogwarts would be like, with her best friend by her side.

"Merlin, congrats, Aurora!" Amos whooped from the doorway, putting his wand away as he realized what had made Aurora shriek. Next to him Marius allowed a small, almost smug, grin.

"Yes, congratulations. But now there's absolutely no time to rest. Less than eight months to get you to a higher level than the rest of your fellow first years. You have a legacy to uphold."

Marius gave Aurora a small nod of approval before heading back downstairs. Amos and Mrs. Diggory followed him, leaving Aurora with Cedric, who was reading over her letter, still grinning madly.

"Come on, let's follow them." He pressed the letter back into her hands, tousling her hair lovingly. "Merlin, Rory, I've got so many stories to tell you. Been saving all the best ones for when it was official —"


	4. September 1, 1991

_September 1st, 1991_

* * *

  
Aurora gawked, wide-eyed, at the sight in front of her. A scarlet steam engine was shining in the afternoon soon, waiting beside a platform packed to the brim with people. She tried to take it all in, but every time she focused, something else caught her eye: the way the steam curled as it poured from the train’s stack, the owls swooping low overhead, families bustling about as cats of every color curled their way through the crowd.

Above her head was a sign reading _Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock_ . Behind her, a wrought-iron archway read _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ directly above where the brick barrier had been. Blurred by the train’s steam, it all felt strangely like she was dreaming.

Marius tightened his grip on Aurora’s shoulder, breaking her out of her daydreaming as he steered her away from the oncoming crowd.

“Marius! Over here, old sport!”

Through the crowd Aurora could spot the stocky Amos Diggory waving madly, Cedric waiting behind him, already dressed in his Hogwarts uniform.

“Meant to be here sooner, but this one nearly forgot his broom. Had to rush back and get it, can’t play proper Quidditch without one, you know.” Amos clasped Marius’ shoulder and nodded in greeting, shooting Aurora a cheeky wink.

“Hiya Rory.” Cedric grinned down at her, taller still and more handsome since his last visit. She hadn’t seen him since she got her Hogwarts letter in January, and this last term at school, plus another summer holiday spent at Quidditch training camp, had left him looking fit. His cheeks were flushed with excitement. “All right?”

“Yeah.” Aurora grinned back, another wave of excitement washing over her.

“Aurora is more than prepared.” Marius’ fingers dug deeper into Aurora’s shoulder.

“No doubt she’ll be joining Ced in Hufflepuff,” Amos laughed, throwing an arm around his son’s shoulder. “He’ll be sure to keep an eye on her. You can think of him like a guide. A mentor! Her knight in sh —”

“Dad, enough,” groaned Cedric, shooting Aurora an apologetic look for Amos’ exuberant behavior.

Amos waggled his finger almost disappointedly at Cedric. “Well I fully expect you to look out for the girl!”

“Thanks, Amos.” Aurora grinned again.

Amos beamed down at her and scooped her into a massive hug — the girl who was like his own daughter. She giggled as he spun her around, finally putting her down after Marius coughed insistently a third time.

“You two look out for each other, okay? You whip him into shape, Aurora, or you write to me and I will. Got that?”

Aurora nodded as Cedric rolled his eyes over her father’s head. The rest of the conversation between Marius and Amos faded as her attention was drawn back to the delightful eccentricness of the train station around her. They had gotten there early, and their meeting point was a prime location for people watching as witches and wizards fought the surging crowds to say goodbye to the children leaning from the train’s windows. A gaggle of gingers emerged from the barrier beside them, chattering away amongst themselves, a raven-haired boy in tow who seemed to be even more impressed with the station than she was. It struck her then how wonderful it was that some of these people would soon be her classmates.

“If you’ll excuse us, Amos, I’d like to have a word with my niece before she heads off.”

Amos gave Marius a curt nod before heading off with Cedric to triple check his own school trunk. Marius turned to Aurora, addressing her directly for the first time since they had crossed the magical barrier.

“And what are you to do when I leave?”

Marius had been questioning Aurora since she woke up, grilling her on his expectations for her and how she intended to find success once arriving at Hogwarts. Aurora had gone along with it — having been raised under these expectations since her first signs of magic had emerged —, but she refused to let her uncle’s pestering dull any of her excitement. The faster he got through this final lecture, the faster he would leave, and the faster she could begin this brand new chapter of her life.

For the first time, she would be setting out on her own.

“Stick with Cedric and prepare for my debut.” Aurora met her uncle’s eyes cooly, maintaining the level of poise he expected from her. “And once I am properly sorted, I’ll write to you.”

“Properly sorted into _Hufflepuff_.” Marius sniffed, studying Aurora’s face with narrowed eyes.

“Into Hufflepuff,” she agreed.

It was common knowledge that every member of her maternal family had been sorted into Hufflepuff, ever since Aurora’s great great great great grandfather Humbert Fawley had first attended Hogwarts. Her grandmother had been one, Marius had been one, even her mother had been one, so it wasn’t surprising for Marius to expect her to carry on the tradition and continue the Fawley legacy.

Marius nodded again, slower this time, as if he was thinking of any final details that hadn’t been touched upon. Then, to Aurora’s surprise, his permanently stern features softened, and he enveloped her into a hug.

“You are going to be brilliant.”

It was the first time Aurora could remember her uncle hugging her. He had always raised her with care, but at an arm’s length. But Aurora had never been bothered. Despite his thirst for her success and the occasional silencing charm, she had been raised well.

The hug ended quickly. Marius’ eyes hardened once again and dug into Aurora’s as he held her shoulders, his fingers tightening almost desperately. “You remember everything that’s at stake?”

Aurora matched his gaze, ignoring any giddiness that was threatening to bubble over. “I can do this, uncle. I swear I can.”

With a final nod, Marius let her shoulders go, swooping over to where Amos and Cedric were idling, trying to pretend like they weren’t eavesdropping. Aurora caught Cedric’s eye and pinched herself hard between her finger and thumb, trying to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. It wasn’t until Marius and Amos had apparated away to their celebratory breakfast did she let go, hugging herself tightly. She was _finally_ heading to Hogwarts!

“Honestly, never thought they’d leave.” Cedric approached her with a grin, much more relaxed without his father hovering over him. He eyed the quickly filling Hogwarts Express, his face falling a bit. “One second, let me get your trunk on the train.”

He picked up her trunk from the trolley, managing quite well on his own. The crowd was still thick with witches and wizards rushing their children to board the train, and Cedric disappeared into it quickly, looking for an empty compartment to fit Aurora’s trunk into.

“Have you seen a toad anywhere?”

Aurora jumped, startled out of watching Cedric’s disappearing form by a round-faced boy. He seemed nervous to talk to her, his shoulders permanently hunched inward.

“Sorry, what?”

“I think I lost my toad and I’m worried he’s on the platform. I don’t want him to get squashed. His name’s Trevor and my Gran will be utterly miffed if I tell her I lost him... _again_ ,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater vest.

Aurora gave a quick scan of the surrounding area for any loose amphibians before shaking her head. “No, haven’t seen one.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile. “But I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you.”

The round-faced boy only sighed, turning away dejectedly in response, but Aurora caught his arm before he could disappear back onto the platform.

“I’m Aurora by the way.”

He seemed shocked that she had introduced herself, momentarily stunned by her outstretched hand.

“...Neville.” He shook her hand cautiously.

Aurora smiled. “Nice to meet you, Neville. I’ll be sure to be on the lookout for any runaway toads.”

He smiled at this before trudging back to an older woman waiting nearby.

“I knew you wouldn’t have any trouble making friends.” Cedric returned, Aurora’s trunk presumably packed away safely. As if reading her mind he reassured her. “First year belongings are taken care of when you get to the castle, no need to worry. Now, let’s find you —”

“OY CEDDY BOY!”

Two red-haired blurs tumbled into Cedric, nearly toppling him to the ground. Aurora stepped back, nearly tripling over her discarded trolley in her attempts to avoid the skirmish unfolding in front of her.

“Fred, George, geroff me,” Cedric wheezed, pushing the two boys off of him.

When the dust had settled Cedric was standing, his yellow tie askew, and flanked by a set of identical twins, both wearing the exact same blue-grey turtleneck. Nothing, as far as Aurora could tell, set one apart from the other.

“Who’s this, Ceddy?” the one on his left grinned at Aurora.

The one on his right propped his elbow on Cedric’s shoulder, tilting his head to Aurora. “A little firstie fwiend?”

Cedric rolled his eyes, a small smile betraying his annoyance. “Twins, meet Aurora Rosier. Aurora, Fred and George Weasley.” He took a moment to study each twin before correcting himself, pointing first to the one on his left, then his right, repeating. “George, Fred.”

“Still getting us confused after all these years, Cedric?” the twin on his right, _Fred_ , sighed, shaking his head. His twin did the same. “You’re nearly as bad as our mother.”

Cedric brushed Fred’s elbow from his shoulder. “No need to get your names right when all you’re doing is bashing bludgers at my head.”

“Workplace acquaintances, that’s all we are to you,” the twin on his left, _George_ , cried, clutching his heart in anguish. “I’m absolutely crushed.”

Aurora laughed at their banter, making the twin’s eyes glint in appreciation. 

“She's the one you told us about last year?” Fred asked Cedric, who nodded. He stuck his hand out, shaking Aurora’s vigorously. “Fred Weasley, the good looking twin.”

“George Weasley,” the other cut in, shaking Aurora’s hand as well. “The even _better_ looking twin.”

“Cedric’s told us a lot about you.”

“All good things, of course! Cedder’s here has never spoken an ill word about anyone.”

“Well, except that one time when Filch left —”

“Knew I’d find you two down here.”

A new voice cut in. Another red-haired boy wearing horn-rimmed glasses approached the four, a stern look on his face. He was shorter than the twins, but definitely older, holding himself with an air of authority. A shiny badge with the letter _P_ was pinned to the front of his robes.

Aurora glanced around the train platform as he approached. It was still early, the platform packed with students and their parents, saying final goodbyes and double checking belongings. Aurora got the sense that this boy was wound a bit too tight for his own good.

“No time, up on the train, all of you.” He shooed his brothers, who only stared back as if he had sprouted a second head. “Hurry now, I’ve got to get back to the prefect’s compartment before the meeting —”

“Oh, a _prefect_ you say?” Fred gasped in great surprise. “Percy, I had no idea.”

“Now, now, Freddie, I think he’s mentioned it before,” George chimed in. “Maybe once —”

“Twice —”

“All summer —”

“Never shutting up —”

Percy the Prefect groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose before reboarding the train, not willing to fight what seemed to be an already losing battle. The twins bounded up the steps behind him, pausing to glance back at Aurora.

“We have a first year brother on the train!”

“Red hair, you can’t miss him!”

And with that piece of advice they disappeared into the train as quickly as they had appeared.

“Are they always like that?” Aurora asked Cedric, the bustling platform now strangely quiet with Fred and George gone.

He laughed tiredly. “No. Usually they’re worse.”

He turned to her with a smile. “Wanna head to my compartment? I’m sure my friends will love meeting you. It really is true, I told them all about you starting this year.”

Aurora nodded quickly, the nauseating feeling of nervousness suddenly washing over her. She had always imagined that she and Cedric would ride to Hogwarts together, but she had never considered being the tag-along to his group of third year friends. Suddenly it hit her that Cedric had much more of a life at Hogwarts then she had ever truly known.

Together they boarded the train, and Cedric led Aurora to a compartment near the front, guiding her through the chaos of students, new and old, as they situated themselves for the journey.

“Aurora, meet everyone. Everyone, Aurora.”

Already in the compartment were three other students. The first was a short, muscular black boy, with dark curls past his shoulders. He was arguing animatedly with the boy next to him, who was muscular as well and kept running his hands through his golden blonde hair. Across from them was a wisp of a girl with big grey eyes and light brown hair pulled into a bun, her legs pulled up so she could balance the book she was reading across her knees. At Cedric’s arrival they all looked up, the blonde smiling goofily up at him.

Cedric nodded his hello and took a seat beside the black boy, gesturing for Aurora to sit. Instead she just stood in the compartment doorway, practically shaking with nerves, her palms suddenly very clammy. She wiped them on her jumper, hoping Cedric’s friends wouldn’t want to shake hands.

“Grab a seat, Rory. This is Herbert Fleet —” The boy beside Cedric nodded gruffly to Aurora. “Malcolm Preece —” The blonde flipped his hair from his eyes and saluted Aurora. “And Heidi Macavoy.” The girl waved slowly, still half-focused in whatever she was reading.

“Had to come dressed and show us all off, didn’t ya Cedric?” Malcolm leaned over and ruffled Cedric’s hair, his voice an Irish lilt. He was wearing a Muggle band shirt and ripped jeans, a sharp contrast to Cedric in his uniform.

“So you’re the Aurora we’ve heard so much about,” said Herbert, leaning forward and propping his chin on his fist. “Any embarrassing stories about Cedric you could tell us?”

The final train whistle sounded, making Aurora jump.

“You know, I think I might try and find that first year brother the twins mentioned after all.”

Cedric nodded, any disappointment he may have felt hidden behind his still beaming smile. 

“I’ll be sure to find you after the Sorting Ceremony. Promise.”

And with a final wink he was gone, the door of the compartment sliding shut as she turned away. Aurora set out to find a place for herself, ducking into the first empty compartment she could find. Finding the red-headed first year could wait. She needed a moment to gather herself.

The train pulled out of the station and Aurora shifted so that she was curled up in her seat, watching the platform from the window. A small girl, _again_ with unmissable red hair, was running to keep up with the train, half laughing, half crying. Once it gathered too much speed she fell back, waving. Aurora waved back at her before slumping down in her seat, a wave of insecurities hitting her unexpectedly.

_What if I do something wrong and nobody likes me? What if I can’t make a single friend? Will Cedric get annoyed with seeing me everyday? But what if I’m not sorted into Hufflepuff? What’ll Uncle Marius say? Will he kick me out? Or worse, what if I don’t get sorted at all? Maybe I’m not a powerful witch like Marius thinks I am. I’ll be the first person to be laughed out of Hogwarts._

She glanced back out the window. The train was smoothly carrying them out of London. As the city began to transform into fields, Aurora felt her nerves melt along with the scenery.

She was going to _Hogwarts_. Nothing could ruin this moment.

The door of the compartment slid open and a young girl about Aurora’s age entered. She was already dressed in her Hogwarts robes, carrying a stack of books that she had haphazardly tucked under her chin.

“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, glancing meaningfully to the empty benches across from Aurora. “Too crowded everywhere else. And much too noisy.”

Aurora shook her head and sat up straighter as the girl sighed in relief, plopping down and letting the book tumble into the bench beside her. She reached a hand out to Aurora, giving her a slightly buck-toothed grin.

“I’m Hermione. Hermione Granger.”

“Aurora Rosier.”

The two shook hands, both grinning madly, secretly relieved to have found a potential friend.

“First year at Hogwarts?” Hermione asked, tossing her bushy hair back and pulling her legs up onto the bench so she could sit cross-legged.

“First year.” Aurora agreed. She glanced at the books littering the space beside Hermione. She recognized a few of the covers from her own supply list. “Yours too?”

“Yep! I’ve been doing lots of extra reading. It’s all rather interesting stuff, you know. I just can’t decide what I’m most excited for! I even picked up a few extra texts, for background reading.” She held up a worn copy of _Modern Magical History_ , her fingers toying lovingly with the frayed ends of the spine.

Aurora laughed. She too had poured over her books the minute she had arrived home from Diagon Alley. Cedric had teased her in one of his letters that she’d give anything to stop reading them once exams rolled around, but they were just too interesting to put down.

“I’m looking forward to Charms the most.” She felt for her wand in her pocket. Vinewood, 12 ½ inches with a dragon heartstring core, supple flexibility. She had tried out twelve other wands, much to Marius’ confusion, before this one chose her. Aurora was excited to put it to good use. “Or Care of Magical Creatures. I’ve always wanted to be a magizoologist.”

“Nobody in my family’s magic at all,” Hermione confessed. “It was such a surprise to get my letter, but I was so pleased, of course. Who wouldn’t be, to find out they’re a _witch_!”

“Nobody at _all_ ?”  
  
“Not a drop.” Hermione beamed proudly.

“That’s amazing,” Aurora gushed, leaning forward. She immediately found Hermione to be even more fascinating than before. “Everyone in my family’s been to Hogwarts already. I’m the last to go.”

“Everyone?” Hermione breathed, her eyes widening.

“Everyone,” Aurora confirmed, before delving into her family’s history. Hermione listened, enraptured, as Aurora described her Ministry-working uncle, twin potioneer aunts, Quidditch-playing uncle, and the aunt in New York. “Ileana’s the youngest. She’s been in New York for years now, writing a book all about Jacob Kowalski.”

“I know that name!” Hermione rummaged through her stack of books before pulling out a dog-eared copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. She flipped to the acknowledgements, reading aloud, “‘In honor of a close colleague and dear friend, J. Kowalski’. Wasn’t he Newt Scamander’s friend from the States?”

Aurora flushed with pride as she pulled out her own copy of the book, even more dog-eared and worn from endless midnight reads. “My aunt met his grandchildren. They’re nearly all half-blooded now! She sent me a copy for my birthday, signed by Newt himself.” She flipped to the inside of the front cover, where the author’s signature had been scrawled, a note of encouragement added from the Magizoologist himself.

Hermione’s eyes had gone as big as saucers and soon enough, the girls were rapidly discussing everything under the sun. Hermione told Aurora everything about her family while Aurora filled in any questions Hermione may have had about the wizarding world.

The two had just gotten to debating the importance of the different Hogwarts houses when a knock sounded on their compartment door. By this time, any horses outside the window had disappeared and been replaced by lush fields, a shadowed woodland looming along the edges. The round-faced boy from the train platform, Neville, stepped inside, nearly in tears.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “but have either of you seen a toad at all?”

When he caught sight of Aurora he flushed bright pink, moving to back his way out of the compartment. “S-Sorry, I’ve already asked.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon, Neville,” Aurora offered sadly. Unfortunately for him, the girl’s compartment had been frog-free. He nodded, choking back a sob, and made a move to leave them alone.

“Want help looking for it?” Hermione asked, freezing the boy in surprise.

“You’ll...come look... _with_ me?”

Hermione stood up excitedly and Aurora followed suit, not wanting to be left alone.

As the three searched the train, Aurora made sure to introduce Hermione to Neville, who had nearly tripped over the empty candy trolley during his rush to shake her hand. They discussed Hogwarts as they searched. Neville lit up at the mention of Herbology, and he told them all about his little garden at home, less nervous now. Most compartments they stopped in gave an annoyed ‘no’ before closing the door in their faces, a few having the courtesy to offer sheepish shrugs.

Despite this, Hermione pressed on, opening what felt like the hundredth compartment door, Aurora and Neville flanking her on either side. Inside were two boys surrounded by sweets. The first to look up was a red-head with a rat on his lap, his mouth crammed with Licorice Wands. Across from him was the awed boy with glasses from the train platform, idly playing with a Wizarding Card.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.” Aurora could tell Hermione was growing irritated by asking the same question over and over again, and the red-haired boy wrinkled his nose at her tone.

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it.” The boy fiddled with his wand, a bit of silver hair sticking out from the point of it. He used it to poke the fat, grey rat that was snoozing on his lap, not at all surprised when the rat didn’t react.

“Thanks anyway, we’ll try —” Aurora started.

“Oh, are you doing magic?” Hermione had noticed the wand in the red-haired boy’s hand. “Let’s see it, then.”

She took a seat across from the boys and patted the space next to her. Aurora followed, deciding to ignore the taken aback look that was stuck to the red-haired boy’s face.

“Er — all right.”

He cleared his throat.

“ _Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,_

 _Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow._ ”

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. The rat remained grey and fast asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” asked Hermione, her forehead scrunched in confusion. She continued before the boy could respond. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so please, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there i, I’ve heard — I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

She said all this rather fast and without taking a breath. Aurora was impressed.

The boys shared a stunned looked before answering.

“I’m Ron Weasley,” the red-head muttered.

“Harry Potter,” said the boy with glasses.

“Are you really?” said Hermione, as Aurora’s jaw dropped involuntarily. “I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Darks Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_.”

Aurora nodded in agreement, absolutely stunned to silence. When she had found her uncle’s stash of information about the Wizarding War, Aurora had found clippings referring to Harry Potter, the ‘Boy Who Lived’, and how he had brought down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as an infant. It had always given her chills whenever she thought about it, and now here he was, sitting right in front of her.

“Am I?” asked Harry, his eyes widening.

“Goodness, didn’t you know?, I’d have found out everything I could if it was me,” said Hermione.

“You're like a legend,” Aurora added, nearly in a whisper. Harry turned to look at her and she could hardly believe that the scrawny, eleven-year old in front of her was _the_ Harry Potter. But the lightning scar peeking out from between his bangs confirmed it.

Before Harry could address anything further, Hermione barrelled on, changing the topic.

“Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad...Anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”

And with that she left, taking toadless Neville with her. Aurora chose to stay, as long as the two boys would let her, not particularly wanting to tail along with Hermione or Neville too much more.

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. “Stupid spell — George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud.”

All at once Aurora put two and two together. She took in his fiery red hair, freckle covered face, and lanky body, nearly smacking herself for being so blind. “You’re the twin’s brother? The first year?”

Ron’s ears went red and Aurora could tell she had struck a nerve. She kept talking, hoping to backpedal and soothe over whatever had upset him.

“They mentioned you when I was boarding, that’s all. I was with Cedric and they told me to find you when I got on the train but I didn’t, I found Hermione instead, and she —”

“What house are your brothers in?” Harry jumped in to save Aurora’s rambling.

“Gryffindor,” said Ron. His shoulder’s sank as gloom settled across his freckled features. “Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not.”

“My maternal family’s been sorted into Hufflepuff for generations,” Aurora chimed in. Ron gave her an odd look and she shrugged. “So I get it. Having to follow in their footsteps and whatnot. I don’t know if my uncle would let me come home if I’m not a Hufflepuff. _Maybe_ a Ravenclaw, but I doubt it.”

“I don’t suppose Ravenclaw _would_ be too bad.” Ron wrinkled his nose as he continued. “But imagine if they put me in Slytherin.”

“That’s the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?”

“Yeah,” said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, still looking depressed.

Aurora hadn’t ever been allowed to consider the possibility of being sorted into another house, let alone Slytherin. Her family’s Hufflepuff legacy ran too deep. It felt impossible she could be sorted anywhere else. She still wondered, occasionally, what it would be like to venture outside of her uncle’s expectations…

“You know, I think the end of Scabbers’ whiskers are a bit lighter,” said Harry, trying to take Ron’s mind off the rapidly approaching sorting. “So what do your older brothers do now that they’ve left, anyway?"

Aurora leaned forward as Ron sat back up. It always interested her to hear about what other wizards were doing after they finished Hogwarts. Her maternal family had all chosen such interesting paths, but Marius and Amos, the two who essentially raised her, only worked in the Ministry. And it was hard to maintain extended interest with, in Aurora’s opinion, such a dull place to work.

“Charlie’s in Romania studying dragons, and Bill’s in Africa doing something for Gringotts,” said Ron.

“Bloody _brilliant_ ,” Aurora breathed, her eyes widening at the mention of dragons.

“Did you hear about Gringotts? It’s been all over the _Daily Prophet_ , but I don’t suppose you get that with the Muggles — Aurora, you might’ve heard, someone tried to rob a high security vault.”

Aurora nodded. She had heard Amos and Marius whispering about it through the fireplace that morning. 

Harry’s eyes went wide. “Really? What happened to them?”

“Nothing, that’s why it’s such big news. They haven’t been caught. My dad says it must’ve been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don’t think they took anything, that’s what’s odd. ‘Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who’s behind it.”

Aurora tugged anxiously at the sleeves of her jumper. She, like every other man, woman, and child in the wizarding world, had grown up with a fear of the Dark Lord. Unlike other families, Aurora had developed her fear alone, without an adult to talk her down, so her imagination had just been able to run wild.

“What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron asked, changing the subject.

“Puddlemere United,” Aurora answered immediately.

“Er — I don’t know any,” Harry confessed.

“What!” Aurora and Ron screeched.

“Oh you wait, it’s the best game in the world —”

And they were off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, all mention of dark wizards forgotten. Ron described the famous games he’d been to with his brothers while Aurora managed to make them both jealous when she mentioned her uncle was a world-famous Seeker.

“I’d better go find Hermione,” Aurora glanced out the window, the once lush greenery replaced with an inky darkness. “I promised we’d head to the castle together.”

Ron and Harry chorused their goodbyes before Ron jumped back into describing his dream broomstick. Aurora slid out of the compartment, pulling the door shut behind her. She had barely taken a step when she collided head-first into another boy her age.

“Watch it!” the boy hissed, stumbling back.

Aurora steadied herself and looked to see who she had run into. In front of her was a pale, blonde boy. His hair was slicked back and he was looking at Aurora as if she had just flung a pile of dragon dung at him. Behind him were two thickset boys who looked extremely mean. On either side of him they looked like the blonde boy’s bodyguards.

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking.” Aurora rubbed her forehead, which had collided with the boy’s pointed chin.

“Obviously.” He looked her up and down, trying to decide if he recognized her, his lips curled into the beginning of a snarl. “And what are you? Muggleborn?”

Aurora blinked at the boy’s directness.

“I’m Aurora Rosier.” She extended her hand to him, knowing full well it wasn’t her name that mattered, but her blood status. “Pureblood.”

The boy almost looked impressed. Inwardly, Aurora rolled her eyes.

“This is Crabbe and Goyle.” He gestured half-heartedly to the boys on either side of him. “And I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

Aurora recognized the surname. Same with the Fawley, Rosier, and Weasley families, Malfoy was one of the twenty-eight names listed within the _Pure-Blood Directory_. Marius had had her read it front to back and memorize every name when she was younger, in order to engrain an understanding that blood status is often considered more important than skill, despite himself being raised away from the ‘pure is power’ mindset. An old household title, the ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’ were strictly ‘true pure blooded’ families, something that Draco seemed to be extremely proud of.

When their hands met to shake, a small shock zipped between their fingers. Aurora pulled back with a yelp while Draco only grimaced.

“Is it true that Harry Potter’s in there?” Draco craned his neck to look over Aurora’s shoulder, his shocked fingers quickly forgotten.

“Yeah,” Aurora answered, trying to shake the tingling feeling out from her fingertips. “Him and Ron Weasley.”

Draco scoffed, still trying to peer through the frosted glass. “My father told me all about the Weasleys. Pack of gits, the lot of them. Not worth our time.”

Aurora noticed how Draco emphasized ‘our’, but she couldn’t tell if he was referring to her or to Harry. She didn’t get a chance to ask before Draco’s attention was directly refocused on her.

“Some wizarding families are better than others. You know that, don’t you Aurora.” It wasn’t a question, and Draco continued. “You can’t go making friends with the wrong sort on your first day. I can help you there.”

One of the boys behind Draco, _Crabbe?_ she wondered, let out a gruff snort. Draco ignored him, grinning at Aurora.

“I think you and I will be fast friends, Rosier."

Before she had a chance to answer he was squeezing past to open the compartment door. Aurora barely got out of their way as the three of them entered, one of the heavy boys shutting the door behind them.

Aurora shook her head, her mind spinning with so many new names and faces. All of them seemed to be in her year, how would she ever keep their names straight? She wandered aimlessly down the corridor, dodging students of all ages as they raced back and forth.

“There you are!”

Hermione rushed out of the door that connected this train car to the next, her face flush.

“Go and get your robes on, we’re nearly there!” She was practically shaking with excitement as she wove her way through the chaos. “I’ll wait for you, then we’d better tell those boys. They’re probably still just lounging about.”

Aurora ducked into the closest washroom and slid her robes on. After her initial fitting with Madam Markin, Marius had stored them neatly away, insisting that Aurora leave them until her first day at Hogwarts. She had convinced herself that wearing them for the first time would be, well, for lack of a better word, _magical_.

She stepped back into the hall, where Hermione was warily watching a group of older boys pass around a rectangular box, a long, hairy leg creeping out the top of it occasionally, much to their delight. They made their way back to the boy’s compartment, nearly getting trampled as a very flustered Draco emerged, Crabbe and Goyle in his wake. He didn’t even offer Aurora a glance before the three disappeared into the chaos of the train.

“What _has_ been going on?” Hermione asked.

Aurora peered over her shoulder, taking in the sweets wrappers scattered across the floor and Ron, who was picking up his rat by the tail.

“I think he’s been knocked out,” Ron said to Harry, ignoring the two girls in the doorway. Upon closer inspection he seemed almost impressed. “No — I don’t believe it — he’s gone back to sleep.”

“I’m guessing you met Draco.” Aurora squeezed past Hermione and into the compartment. She picked up a half-crushed cauldron cake from the seat, which Harry nodded she could have.

“You know him?” asked Ron, suspiciously.

“I only met him when I left earlier,” said Aurora, taking a bite out of the cauldron cake. “Wanted to know my blood status. He was very excited to meet _Harry Potter_.”

Harry sighed and explained all about his initial meeting of Draco in Diagon Alley.

“I’ve heard of his family,” said Ron darkly. “Nasty, the lot of them. They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they’d been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side.” He turned abruptly to Hermione, who was still standing in the doorway. “Can we help you with something?”

“You’d better hurry up and put your robes on,” she huffed. “I’ve just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we’re nearly there.” She eyed the scattered sweets. “You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!”

“Scabbers has been fighting, not us,” said Ron, scowling at her. “Would you mind leaving while we change?”

“All right — I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors,” said Hermione in a sniffy voice. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?”

Hermione left with a toss of her bushy hair, and Aurora followed, giving Harry and Ron another wave.

A voice echoed throughout the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. First years, please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Aurora hugged herself in delight as she followed Hermione to the doors of their train car. A crowd was already forming, but Hermione grabbed Aurora’s hand and managed to push closer to the doors, so they could be some of the first ones off.

The train slowed right down and finally wheezed to a stop. The crowd surged forward, and Hermione and Aurora found themselves washed onto a tiny, dark platform. Aurora rubbed her covered arms, shivering as she was hit with the cold night air. Then, a lamp illuminated the dark, bobbing over the heads of the students.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!”

A giant of a man towered over the first years that were gathered around him, his big hairy face illuminated almost eerily under the lantern light.

“That’s Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundskeeper,” Hermione whispered to Aurora, her voice quivering.

“C’mon, follow me — any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”

  
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. Hermione and Aurora never let go of each other, both out of nerves and excitement. It was getting harder and harder to see, Hagrid’s bobbing lantern as the only light source. Nobody spoke much. The only noise came from Neville sniffling once or twice, never seeming to have found his toad.

Aurora was getting more and more anxious with each step she took. She kept her focus on the ground, careful not to slip and fall and, inevitably, drag Hermione down with her. She could barely hear Hagrid, only her heart pounding in her ears. But a loud ‘Oooooh!”, as well as a bone-crushing squeeze on her hand from Hermione, made her look up.

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its warmly-lit windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Aurora was speechless. Hogwarts. _Home_.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the short. Aurora and Hermione clambered into one, followed by two other first years: a girl with two long, black braids, and a short boy with sandy hair.

“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. “Right then — FORWARD!”

And the fleet of little boats moved off at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

“Heads down!” yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that expertly hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambored out onto rocks and pebbles.

“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” said Hagrid, who was checking each boat as people climbed out of them.

“Trevor!” cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. He lovingly tucked the toad into the pocket of his robes, making Hermione wrinkle her nose in displeasure. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

“Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?”

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	5. Lion, Badger, Eagle, Snake

The door swung open as Hagrid lowered his fist. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald green robes stood before them. She had a very stern face and scanned the first years before her with a cool gaze.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” announced Hagrid, clasping his hands behind his back.

_ Professor McGonagall _ . Aurora recognized the name immediately from the stories Cedric had told her. He had always spoken rather fondly of her, but he had been quick to mention how strict she could be, especially during the Quidditch season. 

Aurora loved her already.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was absolutely enormous. The stone walls were glowing with flaming torches, spread out enough so the shadows danced around the room. The ceiling was much too high to make out clearly, and the grand marble staircase facing them opened to reveal the upper floors of the castle.

Aurora was in awe. Out of all the stories she had been told, from Cedric or Amos or even Marius’ occasional recollection, not a single one could have correctly captured the beauty of Hogwarts in person.

The first years followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Aurora could hear the buzz of hundreds of intermingling voices from a doorway to the right, which made her stomach flutter with nerves. The rest of the school must have arrived during the first year’s boat journey. Aurora could only imagine the faces of Cedric and all his friends, waiting for the first years to make their grand entrance. Just as she felt she were about to burst, Professor McGonagall ushered the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, squeezed too tightly for anyone’s comfort, and peered around nervously.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall started, a small smile blooming on her face as she greeted the first years. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.”

Hermione grabbed Aurora’s hand nervously. She squeezed back, never taking her focus off of McGonagall, who continued.

“The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you’re at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Professor McGonagall scanned the first years, her gaze lingering unabashedly on the buttoning of Neville’s cloak and Ron’s still dirt-smudged nose. Aurora began picking nervously at her nails, only stopping one she remembered what Marius would have said.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”

She left the chamber. Aurora let out a shaky breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

“How exactly do they sort us into houses?” Aurora overheard Harry mutter to Ron as she nudged her way over to join them.

“Some sort of test, I think,” said Ron. “Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

“Let’s hope,” Aurora mumbled.

_ A test? _ Anytime she had asked Marius about the Sorting Ceremony she had been brushed away, just told that there was nothing to worry about & not to ask such ridiculous questions, she was born to be a Hufflepuff, end of story. Or she had been laughed at, like when she asked a slightly tipsy Amos, who had only told her she would have to wait and see before tapping his nose knowingly. Cedric had told her she would have to make a speech all about herself to the rest of the school, and the houses would fight over who wanted her the most.

_ But what if no house wants me? _

She gulped at the thought, the room suddenly much too small and extremely warm. Everyone else around her looked terrified too. Hermione was the only one talking, mumbling at a dizzying pace about all the spells she had learned about and wondering which ones she might need. Harry looked like he was about to be sick and beside him, Ron was as pale as a sheet.

Suddenly, several screams sounded from the back of the room. Aurora jumped, looking around for the cause of the commotion.

“No way  —”

She gasped in disbelief. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Aurora remembered Cedric mentioning the ‘ghosts of Hogwarts’, but she had always laughed it off as just another fear tactic to keep her antsy for her first year. But here they were, pearly-white and slightly transparent, gliding across the room as they talked to one another, hardly giving the first years a noticing glance. They seemed to be arguing heatedly. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —”

“My dear, Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?”

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had finally noticed the terrified first years.

Nobody answered.

“New students! First years!” cheered the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. He leaned back mid-air, his hands resting across his stomach. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?”

A few people nodded mutely.

“Splendid! Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know,” said the Friar. His silvery eyes met Aurora’s and his pudgy face burst into a grin. “Well, hello there! Another Fawley, come to roam the Hufflepuff halls!”

Aurora blushed and nodded quickly, her face pinkening more and more as every head turned to stare at who the Friar was speaking to.

“Right good lot, the Fawleys! Long line of some of the best Hufflepuffs, if I dare to be so bold!” The Friar chuckled. “The question is, whose daughter are you? Now, now, let me think  —”

“Move along now,” interrupted a sharp voice, cutting off the Friar’s train of thought. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.”

Professor McGonagall watched as one by one the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. The Fat Friar gave Aurora a little flutter of a wave before disappearing with the rest.

Aurora took a deep breath. Ten minutes at Hogwarts and she was already being grouped in with the rest of her family. She had expected it, or at least Marius had, always talking up the ‘great Fawley legacy’ and how deep their bloodline ran in the ‘hallowed halls of Hufflepuff’. She just didn’t expect it so soon, and she didn’t realize how much it would bother her.

“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall instructed the first years, “and follow me.”

Aurora and Hermione got into line behind Ron, with Neville nearly shaking behind them. They walked out of the small chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors, straight into the Great Hall.

Aurora’s jaw fell. She never could have prepared herself to be greeted by such a lavish sight. The massive room was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets, just waiting to be filled. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were standing, watching as the first years filed in.

Professor McGonagall led the first years so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers now sitting behind them. Hundreds of faces stared at them. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone a misty silver. Aurora could see Cedric at the far right table next to Malcolm, grinning wildly and waving to catch her eye. Too nervous to wave back, Aurora craned her neck to the ceiling, only to be greeted by a velvety black sky dotted with stars.

“It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside,” whispered Hermione. “I read about it in  _ Hogwarts: A History _ .”

“Wicked.” Aurora breathed as a shooting star blinked across the magical night sky.

She looked back down to see Professor McGonagall silently placing a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she placed a pointed wizard’s hat. It was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aurora’s nose crinkled, she couldn’t fathom what it could be for, other than to make them look even more foolish as they begged for a house to take them.

Everyone else in the Great Hall seemed to be transfixed by the hat. For a few seconds the room was completely still. Then the hat twitched. Hermione let out a soft gasp as a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth  — and the hat began to sing.

“ _ Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, _

_ But don’t judge on what you see, _

_ I’ll eat myself if you can find _

_ A smarter hat than me. _

_ You can keep your bowlers black, _

_ Your top hats sleek and tall, _

_ For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat _

_ And I can cap them all. _

_ There’s nothing hidden in your head _

_ The Sorting Hat can’t see, _

_ So try me on and I will tell you _

_ Where you ought to be. _

_ You might belong in Gryffindor, _

_ Where dwell the brave at heart, _

_ Their daring, nerve, and chivalry _

_ Set Gryffindor apart; _

_ You might belong in Hufflepuff, _

_ Where they are just and loyal, _

_ Those patient Hufflepuffs are true _

_ And unafraid of toil; _

_ Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, _

_ If you’ve a ready mind, _

_ Where those of wit and learning, _

_ Will always find their kind; _

_ Or perhaps in Slytherin, _

_ You’ll make your real friends, _

_ Those cunning folks use any means _

_ To achieve their ends. _

_ So put me on! Don’t be afraid! _

_ And don’t get in a flap! _

_ You’re in safe hands (though I have none) _

_ For I’m a Thinking Cap! _ ”

The Great Hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables before becoming still again.

“So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Aurora heard Ron mutter to Harry over the din of the applause. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”

Aurora wanted to laugh, but the sound got caught in her throat. All they had to do was try on the hat. Yes, that was much easier than giving a speech or casting spells or wrestling a troll, but she couldn’t get the hat’s song out of her head. It was asking a lot, to let it see into her head, to see and analyze  _ everything _ . Aurora didn’t feel very ‘just’ or ‘loyal’ or ‘patient’ like a Hufflepuff was expected to. But she didn’t feel very ‘brave’ or ‘quick-witted’ or ‘cunning’ either. If she were being quite honest, she felt rather small and scared. But there didn’t seem to be a fifth house for that.

She closed her eyes and squared her shoulders, letting Marius’ sentiment from the train platform wash over her.  _ You are going to be brilliant _ . She had been preparing for this for years. All she had to do was be herself, and things would fall as they were meant too.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat (which fell right down over her eyes), and sat down. A moment’s pause  —

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

The Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers and clapped as Hannah skipped over. Aurora watched Cedric grin along with the rest of his house, his eyes glinting with the excitement of the sorting.

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to a still-beaming Hannah.

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

The table second from the left clapped this time, several Ravenclaws standing up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

Hermione grabbed Aurora’s arm suddenly, leaning over with urgency as another girl skipped up to be sorted.

“Will we still be friends, even if we’re not in the same house?”

Aurora turned away from the sorting and was shocked by the intensity she met in Hermione’s eyes. She nodded fiercely, wrapping Hermione in a hug, as if to seal the promise. “I swear.”

“Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw too, but “Brown, Lavender” became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Aurora could see Ron’s twin brothers cat-calling.

“Bulstrode, Millicent” then became the first Slytherin. Aurora watched the last remaining table in the hall, stuck between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. The Slytherins didn’t look all that bad. They cheered fiercely for their new arrival like all the rest and, despite the dirty looks some members of the other houses shared, they didn’t seem like that bad of a lot.

“There isn’t a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin,” Ron sneered to Harry, who was staring at the green and silver table with a grimace.

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Aurora began to notice that sometimes the hat shouted out the house at once, but sometimes, for a few people, it would take a bit longer to decide. “Finnigan, Seamus”, the sandy-haired boy she had shared a boat with earlier, sat on the stool for almost a full minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

“Granger, Hermione!”

“Oh, no. Okay, relax.” Hermione braced herself before nearly running up to the stool, jamming the hat eagerly on her head before she lost her nerve.

“Mental that one, I’m telling you,” Ron muttered. Harry and Aurora nodded in agreement.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

Aurora grinned wildly as Hermione skipped over to the Gryffindor table. Then, like a popped balloon, her spirits fell.

_ It could be worse _ , she thought as she watched Hermione shake hands with Percy the Prefect.  _I’m sure Cedric has friends outside of Hufflepuff._

Resolved to not let Hermione’s sorting affect her, Aurora turned back to the sorting, where ‘Greengrass, Daphne’ had just been declared a Slytherin.

When Neville Longbottom was called, he fell over on his way to the stool, scurrying quickly to grab his toad before he could escape again. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”, Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to “MacGougal, Morag”.

Aurora watched Draco Malfoy swagger forward when his name was called. The brim barely brushed his blonde head before it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

Malfoy, looking pleased with himself, went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle (both already sorted into Slytherin, of course). Aurora could hear Ron scoffing to Harry from behind her.

There weren’t many people left now.

“Moon”  —, “Nott” —, “Parkinson” —, then a pair of twin girls, “Patil” and “Patil” —, then the girl with braids from the boat, “Perks, Sally-Anne” — and then, what everyone had been waiting for —

“Potter, Harry!”

As Harry stepped forward, whispers broke out throughout the hall like little hissing fires.

“ _ Potter _ , did she say?"

“ _ The _ Harry Potter?”

Aurora and Ron, now shoulder to shoulder, waited anxiously as the Sorting Hat was placed over Harry’s eyes. She was nearly as excited to see where Harry would be sorted as she was for herself. Everyone in the Great Hall seemed to feel the same, all craning their necks to get a good look at The Boy Who Lived. It felt as if his sorting took years, and Aurora noted how white his knuckles were from clenching onto the stool below him. Finally  —

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Ron nearly collapsed with relief as Harry shakily made his way over to the Gryffindor table. The cheers for him echoed throughout the hall, the loudest for any student yet. Aurora watched Percy leap up to welcome Harry, Fred and George chanting “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

There was a growing flutter of nerves in her stomach. As “Rivers, Oliver” donned the hat, the flutter turned more into a sort of stampede.

“Rosier, Aurora!”

The walk to the stool seemed to be miles long. As she took a seat and waited for the hat to be placed, Aurora scanned the Great Hall. She could see Hermione crossing her fingers at the front of the Gryffindor table, Cedric grinning up at her with the rest of the Hufflepuffs. Even Draco Malfoy was staring at her intently, curious, no doubt, to see which house would be able to claim her pureblood status. Then, everything went dark.

She waited.

“ _ Hmmm _ .” The voice seemed to be reverberating all around her. “ _ I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Aurora Rosier. To delve into your mind, unravel whatever damages I could find. Your mother and father were quite different, but they were sorted fairly, very fairly indeed. _ ”

“ _ Hufflepuff _ .  _ I  _ know  _ I’m a Hufflepuff _ .” Aurora replied like a trained bird. There was a wavering to her voice, though, that she hadn’t expected, and the hat chuckled.

“ _ You _ know _ , do you? Well, you can’t believe only what your uncle tells you. You are too your father’s daughter. _ ”

And there it was. Chills ran up Aurora’ spine at the mention of her father, her fingers clenching the stool in anticipation. Eleven years of avoiding the topic of her parents, and now a talking hat was cracking it wide open.

She never had the courage to admit it before, but Aurora had always felt an intense connection to her father. Or at least, the  _ idea _ of her father. Part of it stemmed from knowing absolutely nothing about him — from living with her maternal family, she at least had always had at least an inkling of knowledge about her mother. He was an enigma, someone she didn’t even know, and yet that desperation for a connection only intrigued her more and more.

“ _ Quite a shame you never knew your father _ ,” the hat continued, delving deeper as if sensing Aurora's interest. “ _ Yes, he was a powerful wizard. You have his raw power, his determination for success. And yet, you have your mother’s loyalty. A wondrous balance, Aurora, but I want to see you _ .” The hat paused, digging deeper for what it wanted to find. It sighed contentedly. “ _ Ahhh, yes. A solid mind, plenty of courage. Forced to grow up living a life already planned for you, hidden from the outside world. You have a path forged in destiny, though it may not be as you expect. A shame your family has hidden so much from you _ .”

Aurora could feel her head humming with power, almost as if she was heating up from the inside. She was beginning to hate how much the hat could see, and how little it was really telling her. She felt almost scared, waiting in the dark while her mind and soul were read like a good book.

“ _ I want to be great. _ ” Aurora didn’t realize she had thought this, but once it was said, she knew it was true. “ _ Like my father. I want to be brilliant. _ ”

The hat chuckled, seemingly pleased with Aurora’s honesty.

“ _ And brilliant you shall become. Better make it  _ — SLYTHERIN!”

Aurora heard the hat’s decision echo throughout the hall.

Before McGonagall removed the hat from her head, Aurora heard it whisper in finality.

“ _ Destiny can be a fickle thing, my dear _ .”


End file.
